Fire Emblem: A New Journey
by KingKazul400
Summary: [Chapter 4 UP!] While the fall of Nergal and his Morphs eliminated the threat for years, a ex-minion of the said evil arises. Two sides must come together to rid of this new foe.
1. Chapter 1: The Shrine of Seals

Kingkazul400 here! I'm only posting this here due to the fact that the Gamefaqs.com boards were getting a tad annoying with copiers and thieves stealing my idea.  
  
Sairn: Darn thieves of great minds... Ought to fix them with a Bolting or two...  
  
Anyway, this is supposed to take place after the events of both FE6 and FE7 but expect to see dead people from the said games arise. As Morphs...  
  
So far, here's a summary of what events *might* happen:  
  
Ex-minion of Nergal arises - seizes a mystic object - said evil person takes said object and tries to pull a Nergal  
  
Get my drift?  
  
Oh well, on with the show!  
  
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Fire Emblem  
  
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Chapter 1: The Shrine of Seals  
  
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Lost in the tomes of time was a seal that was stronger than the Fire Emblem itself. What is it? It was the Mystic Seal.  
  
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Location: Bern  
  
Area: Shrine of Seals  
  
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Ryoku the Cavalier sat on top of his horse, scanning the plains of Bern. Younger than the rest of the guard, he was shunned by the others. Tonight he was on sentry duty. The artifact of great power was now being guarded only by the lone Cavalier.  
  
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Sairn Kazul muttered a quick spell of Bolting under his breath. Finally, after 10 long years of study and research, he has found the exact location of the Mystic Seal. His three other companions followed quietly behind, never uttering a word.  
  
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"Finally, the seal will be mine!" the sage cackled. The moonlight danced across his cloaked body as he finished making the signs of the Bolting spell. When the last rune was finally sketched, Sairn breathed out the last word in a hiss.  
  
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"Bolting!"  
  
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Ryoku found himself tossed off of his horse, which was unusual, and to land hard on his back, nearly crushing his last Elixer.  
  
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"Cripes!" Ryoku yelled as he realized that another Bolting spell was headed for his comrades direction. The guardhouse was immediately blow apart, but luckily the stone masonry never even landed near him or his horse. Scanning the plains quickly, his eyes found what he just needed to see.  
  
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An sage being followed by a thief with two archers covering each other. Something strange is most definitely happening.  
  
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Leaping upon his horse, Ryoku knew that the only thing he had to do was now. The last guard of the Mystic Seal must report to his Lord, Alex the Mercenary.  
  
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Peter heard something akin to hoofs stamping heavily upon the ground. Turning toward Dennings, he received a glare from Dennings to continue covering their master. After making sure that the entire guard of the Mystic Seal was wiped out, Sairn turned around.  
  
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"Where's Pleis? He should be done scoping out the surviving guard." The impatient sage demanded as he kicked a smouldering body. The lightning crisped body turned to ash.  
  
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"Lookin' fer me, boss?" a quiet voice spoke from behind the raging sage. In his arms were his plunders of looting the guardhouse. Silver swords, bags of gold, and Poison Arrows were among the loot.  
  
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"Good job," Sairn replied in a mock happy tone. His face didn't confirm with his anger. "I thought I told you to go ahead and steal the key from the captain's chambers!"  
  
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"Already done." Pleis muttered in a low tone as he handed over the object of desire. He went through a hell of dead bodies to get a key and his reward is getting yelled at by his master?!  
  
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"I deserve more respect." said Pleis as they entered the Chamber of the Seals. His remark went unanswered.  
  
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Unlike the blasted guard outside, the Chamber of Seals was clean and overall, not even guarded. The key that Pleis stole fitted in the first door in the room but through sheer possible divine intervention, the key got stuck and it couldn't be pulled out.  
  
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"Just great!" Sairn screamed as he kicked the steel door. He quickly regretted kicking the door for his foot hurt like the nine circles of hell. "Well, don't just stand there! Open the friggin' door!"  
  
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"Right you are, boss," said Pleis...  
  
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Sorry, but I ain't good with cliffhangers. Just wait for the next one to show up. 


	2. Chapter 2: Within the Shrine

Disclaimer: If I did own the FE series, would I be sitting here in front of my PC wallowing in self-pity? I DON'T OWN THE DARN SERIES! Some lacky of his honorable Shigeru Mayamoto (I hope I spelled that right...) did so, so there!  
  
Thanks to only ONE person ("Millenium Slinky"), I will dig myself out of my Pithole of Pity (yeah, I'm pissed and depressed), I will continue with the 2nd part the new EPIC!  
  
Sairn: Yes! He said EPIC!  
  
Stupid muse...  
  
Sairn: Huh?  
  
Here's the second part!  
  
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Fire Emblem: A New Journey...  
  
Act I  
  
Part I  
  
Chapter 2: Within the Shrine  
  
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Unlike the blasted guard outside, the Chamber of Seals was clean and overall, not even guarded. The key that Pleis stole fitted in the first door in the room but through sheer possible divine intervention, the key got stuck and it couldn't be pulled out.  
  
"Just great!" Sairn screamed as he kicked the steel door. He quickly regretted kicking the door for his foot hurt like the nine circles of hell. "Well, don't just stand there! Open the friggin' door!"  
  
"Right you are, boss," said Pleis. The nimble and silent thief whipped out his Lockpick and promptly began to fiddle with the lock after he snapped the key in half. After a few moments, the door swung open.  
  
"Good job," said Peter the Archer as they stepped into the room. Pleis ignored the remark and stared at the interior.  
  
"Wow," said Dennings the Archer. Sairn Kazul was the only one who wasn't looking at the remarkable interior. Murals of battles and weddings and other important events in history covered the walls. one notable scenery that was hard to miss was the event of the "Scouring". The floor, the ceiling, heck, even the doors were covered in art. Sairn Kazul the Sage ignored all this finery and marched toward the center of the magnificent room.  
  
At the center was a glass cabinet with three seperate orbs on short white marble pillars guarding it. The first orb was filled with a swirling mist of white magic. A tome titled "Aureola" was sealed within the mist. Sairn saw the tome and smirked as he attempted to break the barrier. His Thunder spell struck the orb but it reflected the spell at himself. The bolt of magic flew off at and angle and struck Sairn in the leg. Muttering curses, the Sage pulled out his Psychic staff and cured himself.  
  
"You okay, chief?" said Dennings as he snapped from his reverie.  
  
"Fine!" Sairn snapped in disgust at this open display of emotion. "Never been better!" He then muttered, "Imbecile!" under his breath. "Forget the 'Aureola' Spell! I'm a Dark Sage, not some namby-pamby Monk!"  
  
"You sure about that, boss?" Pleis muttered beneathe his breathe with spite and a touch of malice. "I mean, when's the last time a spell of yours actually bested some lousy bishop's?" Luckily for the under-respected thief, Sairn nor his other companions heard the sarcastic remark.  
  
The next orb was like the first yet the inside was filled with magic of the darkest. Dark mist floated in the orb and at the center was a forbidden book of magic. It was Sairn's own relative's tome known as "Ereshkigal".  
  
"Ereshkigal," Sairn cooed as his dark red eyes gleaned the tome over and over. "Thanks a lot, cousin Nergal." His hands gripped the orb, shaking it furiously. The tome stayed at the center but the mist moved. It moved in a way that incited Sairn to stand back and fling a Elfire spell at it. A column of Anima Magic swirled around the orb with such fury that it melted the column the orb was upon. When the spell ended, the orb was split into pieces with the Ershkigal tome laying there, unscathed.  
  
Moving on to the last orb, Sairn's eyes widened to the point where it was almost like a saucepan. The mist was red but at the center was a spellbook of power that was unattainable by any mere Mage or an advanced Sage. In the orb, was the tome titled "Forblaze" with Archsage Athos's own signature at the bottom.  
  
"Must have this book!" he gleefully muttered as he drew out his power for a Bolting spell. The red mist swirled faster as more power was put into the spell. Finally, the evil Sage couldn't hold the power back and unleashed his fury. The orb was broken into pieces but the tome laid there, unscathed. Shaking hands with smoked leaking out clutched the tome. Glee and malice danced in Sairn's dark red eyes.  
  
"The power," said the evil Sage. "I have the power of Archsage Athos!" The raised the tome and began chanting the incantation, the very same that he had heard many years ago when he was an apprentice to Erk the Sage, his master.  
  
Molten fire worthy of the Dragonlands leapt forth from the book. Pleis, Peter, and Dennings watched in awe as their leader and boss continued to chant the forbidden magic. More and more power built up and soon, the unfortunate three had no choice but to run.  
  
"TAKE COVER!" yelled Peter as he shoved Dennings and Pleis out of the room. He quickly slammed the metallic door and held it back, breathing heavily. Pleis and Dennings returned with a beam of wood and barred the door shut. A loud rumbling was heard and all three unfortunates stared at each other in horror. They quickly evacuated the building. They ran as if the demons of the nine circles of Hell were chasing them for their souls. When they finally reached the woods did they turn back and look.  
  
"Mwa ha ha ha!" they heard Sairn's voice boom. "Look at me, my faithful followers! Look at my power!" The entire building shook at the power of the magic of Forblaze. It crumbled onto itself. Pleis looked away, fearful of the carnage. Peter and Dennings just stood there with their jaws slack. Never had any of the three followers of Sairn had seen him level an entire building with power of that magnitude.  
  
Slack-jawed and confused, the three miscreants stared at one another as the explosions of fire and magic slowly died. Pleis noticed that Peter and Dennings were not quick enough to dodge most of the blasts of fire when they were evacuating the Shrine of Seals. Pulling several vulnerary vials, Pleis motioned for the awe-struck two to sit down.  
  
"Whadya think the chief's done now?" Peter blurted out in a confusing cascade of blabber. "I mean, if he's gone, does that mean that what we've done to get here is fer nothin'?" Pleis paused briefly in the darkness as he administered the curing powers of the vulnerary onto a third degree burn.  
  
"I dunno," the thief simply said as he finished cleaning the minor wound. "It might be for the best... or it might be for the worst for us..." He moved on to help Dennings but the Archer waved away the Thief's help.  
  
"Pain is weakness leaving the body," the Archer simply said in a monotone. Pleis stared at his companion in disbelief. He knew that Dennings was one to bear pain and suffering from his past but why did the Archer wave away medication?  
  
"Come on, Dennings," Pleis said as he reached for one of Dennings's wounds. "If pain is weakness leaving the body, then you must treat some of the wounds left by the pain." The nimble Thief swiftly withdrew his hand as the Archer brought out his long dagger and slashed downward where the hand was. Peter realized what was happening and quickly held Dennings down while knocking the bladed weapon away.  
  
"Just... just don't bother with me, okay!" Dennings yelled in fury as he struggled against the stronger grip of Peter. "Let me go, Peter!" The dagger laid a short distance away in the grass.  
  
"What's wrong wid ya?" Peter bellowed into his fellow Archer's left ear. "What are ya? Crazy?" He flung Dennings into the dirt, disgusted. Suddenly, a loud roar erupted from the ruins of the Shrine.  
  
The three survivors quickly forgotten their dispute as they hastily gathered their gear and managed to hide behind several large trees. The roar of magic quickly ended and the three slowly made their way back to the edge. More rumblings were heard but they continued their trek.  
  
A flash of light later, they saw their lord and master once more. Instead of his old cloak and spells, they found that he was wearing a new cloak of crimson with robes of black. The Psychic staff wasn't hidden beneath his cloak. Sairn revealed to his followers of his new gear.  
  
"Look at this, my faithful!" he joyfully showed the three. "Look at this!" He immediately reached within his cloak and pulls out the three Tomes of extreme power.  
  
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Ryoku the Cavalier was tired. Tired of riding through the night. Tired of being just a pawn in a big game of chess. Tired with the fact that his horse just threw him off for the fifth time in three hours.  
  
"Dang it, Lope! Stop tossing me off fer no reason!" Ryoku yelled at his horse, irritably. His horse snorted and allowed his master to mount him.  
  
"Only a coupla more miles until we reach, Lord Alex's Castle," the Cavalier muttered as they continued riding into the night. "I just hope that he's in the mood to learn about the Shrine. Oof!" Ryoku flew through the air and landed belly first onto the grass.  
  
"STUPID HORSE!" Lope gave a smug snort.  
  
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So what do ya think? See dat liddle purple button down there? REVIEW PLEASE!  
  
(Due to the fact that I have exams for the next 7 days, I won't be able to update for a while and nor can I stop and use the computer for this because I hate my CALCULUS teacher all the way to the last Circle of Hell and back. CURSE YOU, DANTE!)  
  
Sairn: He just needs a little cup of Starbucks coffee now... after all, CALCULUS is his weakest subject...  
  
SHUT UP! Stupid muse... 


	3. Chapter 3: The Mind of a Dark Sage

Okay, I'm back and I had a bad case of Writer's Block. CURSE IT!  
  
Sairn: He's a liddle nutty right now...  
  
SHUT UP!! Stupid muse... I'm pissed at my muse so forgive my attitude.  
  
Anyway, this chapter is gonna clear up the confusion about Sairn Kazul. Bear in mind that this will be most definitely though-inducing.  
  
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Note: A character from FE7 is in here.  
  
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Dragon's Destiny2k2:  
  
Question: Is this based of FE6?  
  
Answer: Read and you'll find out  
  
Millennium Slinky:  
  
I have a psycho for a muse and you have the "Hurricane" as a muse. It sounds even don't it?  
  
The "Hurricane" happens to be *waits for it* Legault. Guess who's the "Angel of Death" or "Deathangel"?  
  
Serra21:  
  
Thanks for that. That happened to my uncle so I kinda had to plug it in there.  
  
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DISCLAIMER: Why the hell do you guys think I own this series? I ain't Japanese nor am I the heir of Nintendo's Intelligent Systems! I'm a freakin' techie who knows stuff!  
  
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Act I  
  
Part I  
  
Chapter 3: The Mind of a Dark Sage  
  
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A flash of light later, they saw their lord and master once more. Instead of his old cloak and spells, they found that he was wearing a new cloak of crimson with robes of black. The Psychic staff wasn't hidden beneath his cloak. Sairn revealed to his followers of his new gear.  
  
"Look at this, my faithful!" he joyfully showed the three. "Look at this!" He immediately reached within his cloak and pulls out the three Tomes of extreme power.  
  
"My lords! It IS the three mighty books of magic!" Peter the Archer cried as Pleis and Dennings continued with their amazed looks. "Forblaze, Aureola, and even Nergal's Ereshkigal!"  
  
"You know exactly what to do now, my friends," Sairn winked. "Go into Lycia and exact the same pain and suffering that we four have suffered even since my dear uncle Nergal died. You know who to strike."  
  
"Um..." Pleis began ticking people on his fingers. "First we deal with Lord Eliwood of Pherae, then Hector of Ostia, and then... that Lyn girl from Caelin, and then everybody else that was there."  
  
"Sir Wallace is still in Ilia, Pent and Louise are at Etruria with Erk, Serra is with Oswin in Ostia, and those two pesky knights are in Caelin. What were their names?" Dennings butted in.  
  
"I do believe that they were some red head named Kent and some green guy named Sain," Peter quietly said. "Sain is known to frequent... female hostels. Kent is a well-known sentry with the trust of his people. Those two will pay dearly."  
  
"Excellent," Sairn cackled as he toyed with his newly acquired Forblaze tome. The runes of fire emitted a slight crimson glow as the Dark Sage's fingers continue to rub the edges. "Prepare to implement... the plan."  
  
"Huh?" Peter asked with confusion. "What plan?" Pleis smacked the Archer with a piece of wood.  
  
"The PLAN, you stupid fool! THE PLAN!" the nephew of the late Nergal roared in utter fury. He quickly sketched the runes for the Forblaze spell, aiming it at Peter.  
  
"Agh! No, my lord!" Peter screamed as the Dark Sage was halfway through the incantations. "I know what plan you are speaking of! I know it!" The Dark Sage continue to mutter the spell, unaware of how costly the mistake of killing a follower may be.  
  
Pleis and Dennings immediately grabbed the poor Archer by the arms and dragged him away. Mere moments after the three minions were away from where they were, a huge column of fire erupted about where Peter stood.  
  
The fire roared with the fury of the Nine Circles of Hell. Trees and other nearby shrubbery were instantly consumed by the power of Fire. They immediately were reduced to nothing but mere ashes of ashes.  
  
Once the great column of fire dissipitated into the wind, all that was left were just scorched earth...  
  
Sairn just merely glanced at his surroundings. A grin danced across his face.  
  
  
  
... And nothing more.  
  
The Dark Sage held his head high. Nothing was going his way. Absolutely nothing. He had been tracking the fiends who slew his dear uncle, the only one of his family who had taken him in when his magical talents reduced his home into cinders.  
  
Cinders with blood mixed in.  
  
The blood of his family.  
  
Sairn tilted his head back and stared at the moon.  
  
It was the same moon he saw many, many years ago.  
  
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In a wooded glen not too deep within the woods, deer and squirrels were keenly interested upon the antics of a black haired youngster along with his green haired father. A small wagon with wood piled in it was near the two as they continued to labor.  
  
"Looka here, daddy!" a little boy about the age of six yelled as he hefted his father's axe. The iron axe was light for the father yet it was heavy enough to keep the child from keeping it above his head. The child's arms and legs wavered slightly as he continued to hold it above his head.  
  
"That's good, son!" the little boy's father yelled back as he continued to cheer his son on. "Good job, Sairn!"  
  
The little boy laughed with joy at the praise from his father. Dropping the axe with a heavy thud onto the green grass, Sairn jumped into his father's waiting arms.  
  
"Oof! You're gettin' a liddle heavier son! What's mamma been feedin' you?" the greatly muscled parent teased as he tickled his son's ribs. "More and more of that delightful Etrurian pastries of hers?" Sairn giggled with glee.  
  
"Yup!" the boy managed to get in between laughs as his father's great fingers continued to tickle him. "Those pastries sure are good!"  
  
Sairn managed to wriggle free from the grip of his father and he landed on the earth.  
  
But he landed head first, unfortunately. Something snapped and Sairn heard his father's gasp of disbelief. Before the child's vision dimmed, he uttered on last word.  
  
"Father..."  
  
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That was the last time he, Sairn Kazul of Etruria, ever experienced the joy of living as a human. He had been brought back from the dead thanks to a traveling acolyte of St. Elimine. Ever since he had came back Sairn had offered prayers to the legendary Bishop.  
  
Sairn's eyes flashed red briefly. Such petty thoughts are not for the once living. He was no longer a human. Sairn unraveled a piece of cloth from around his shoulder.  
  
Where there was once noticeable mass of flesh, there was nothing there but mere sinew and bone. Nothing more, nothing less. Just white bone and the sinew.  
  
The Dark Sage shuddered as the wind blew through the one of the many empty parts of him. He quickly rewrapped the bindings back on his shoulder. More and more memories quickly flooded back to him.  
  
The traveling Bishop had offered to grant his parent one wish for their son. The Bishop had been wrong to offer such a folly. Taking a chunk out of Sairn's dead body, he had offered it to a god, but not to the god of good.  
  
When he had came back, his parents were in for a surprise.  
  
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"Sairn!" his mother joyfully cried as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Tears of agony and joy streamed down the black haired woman's cheeks, collecting onto Sairn's shoulder. She kissed his cold cheeks, twice.  
  
Glancing past his mother, Sairn saw something. His father was by the door, thanking the Bishop who had presumably brought him back. The door was open and Sairn could not see the Bishop's face apart from the robe and the staff the follower of St. Elimine had.  
  
"It's nothing," the Bishop kindly said. "I've done this many times and seeing the joy of their loved ones is enough to be my payment."  
  
"But please," Sairn's father entreated. "I want you to take this." He held up a tome. Sairn sensed a power from the tome. He saw the Bishop step back in surprise. His father became puzzled and confused. Why had the Bishop reared away from a mere book?  
  
"Ah, as kind as your gesture may be," the Bishop began again in a quivering tone. "I must decline. The road is calling me again and I must answer it. I thank you and your wife for the hospitality. May the blessings of St. Elimine shine upon you and your heirs." The rod of the Bishop emitted a blue glow, washing everything in the house with its light.  
  
"Sure," Sairn's father still held out the tome toward the Bishop. "But I still must insist on you to take this tome. We, Kazuls of Etruria, may not have a lot but we can give you this. We have no need of it and we may never need it again in the future. I must implore of you to take this with you."  
  
"But-" the Bishop began. Sairn's father cut him off.  
  
"Perhaps in your travels you may find a way to destroy this book. Please do it for us, Bishop Renault! I beg of you!" Sairn saw the Bishop carefully taking the tome. The Bishop whispered something to his father in a urgent tone. His father acknowledged the Bishop's comments and followed the man out.  
  
"It's... strange to be back... mother..." Sairn said in a strange off-world tone. "I feel... strange..." His mother continued to hug him ferociously but Sairn can sense the fear in her voice.  
  
"It's nothing more, son, nothing more. Just the shock of being back from the dead." His mother continued to sob. Sairn just sat there in his mother's arms.  
  
He was no longer human.  
  
He was just a construct of flesh and bone with no more human emotions. Like Nergal's Morphs.  
  
Sairn's eyes glowed red. His mind was taken over by an deep and dark instinct. Nothing else was making sense anymore.  
  
Absolutely nothing made sense.  
  
He killed his parents in a year...  
  
... And he did it with no regret.  
  
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Sairn's fist smashed into the mere cinders of a tree. The force of the blow knocked the tree over. Black ashes clung to the Dark Sage's angry knuckles.  
  
He cursed the god who brought him back.  
  
He cursed the Bishop for resurrecting him.  
  
He cursed his parents for requesting it.  
  
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Whoo! Thanks to the _3_ reviewers ("Millennium Slinky", "Dragon's Destiny 2k2", and "Serra21") as of:  
  
Sairn: "February 7th, 2004."  
  
Thanks a lot!  
  
Sairn: Remember that liddle purple button down there? REVIEW!  
  
Stupid muse... 


	4. Chapter 4: The Ride of Ryoku

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Disclaimer: If I owned Fire Emblem, I wouldn't be typing up a fic, would I?  
  
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Act I  
  
Part II  
  
Chapter 4: The Ride of Ryoku  
  
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The sound of hooves beating upon the earth like a crazed war dance was heard in the distance as Ryoku and his horse Lope finally reached the fortress of his lord, Lord Alex. The trail of dirt finally turned into cobblestones as Ryoku the Cavalier finally reached the edges of the still sleeping village.  
  
Unfortunately for Ryoku, his horse stopped without warning for no reason. The Cavalier flew through the air screaming like a banshee. He landed, fortunately, rear first on the cobblestones in sitting position.  
  
"If you hadn't tossed me all those times, I would be feeding you fresh oats with sugar mixed in!" the PO'd Cavalier screamed as he slowly got up. Wincing, he made sure the Steel Sword he had with him was still secured onto his belt.  
  
"Halt! Who goes there?" A member of the guard called out. Ryoku found himself staring down the length of an immensely long Javelin.   
  
Ryoku ducked down and rolled aside and drew his Steel Sword. The owner of the Javelin threw it at the Cavalier and he rolled aside once more. The Cavalier then heard the rasp of a sword being drawn and Ryoku quickly backed off to where he can see his foe in the dim light of dawn. Leaping up, Ryoku struck down upon the helm of his opponent and dealt it a harsh blow with the pommel of his sword, causing the helm to ring like a bell. The guard dropped his sword and shield.  
  
"Parley!" the guard yelled through the ringing of metal. "I claim parley!" Ryoku immediately knocked off the helm, revealing a messy mat of blond hair above green eyes.  
  
"Uh, shouldn't we be saving the combat training for another time?" said the Cavalier. Sheathing his sword, Ryoku looked at his newly defeated foe and he quickly pulled his opponent into a Hug of Death.  
  
"Urk! Who's that!" the castle guard cried in desperation to break free of Ryoku's terrible grasp. "Help!"  
  
"Calm down, Vahn!" said Ryoku as he finally let go of his buddy. "I can't believe you gave me such welcome. Surely living old friends are much better than a dead friend."  
  
Ryoku's newly recognized comrade staggered upright and squinted at him. Vahn then picked up his Javelin and stuck it pole first into the ground so that he won't have to search for it later. Then, the guard picked up his Iron Sword and returned it to its sheath. The cumbersome shield remained on the ground.  
  
"Oh, it's you," said Vahn as he began to wipe some dirt off of his blue armor. "Didn't know you were sent here. Last I heard, they said that you were posted at the Shrine."  
  
"Was," replied Ryoku. "We got attacked during the night."  
  
"Isn't it still night?" Vahn gestured at the dawn sky. "I just got the luck of drawing the shortest straw."  
  
"You should tell me that tale but right now, I need to see Lord Alex," Ryoku quickly brushed aside Vahn's little vignette. "It's urgent and should be only heard of his lordship's own ears."  
  
"And what happened?" said Vahn as he looked up from polishing his armor. Ryoku raised his Steel Sword before Vahn's nose.  
  
"It's none of your business, friend. Just lead me to Lord Alex. Now!"  
  
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Lord Alex rolled off of his bed, fitfully and tired. Sitting up from the carpeted floor, he strectched and sighed. Alex cannot believe that his dreams tonight were severely unusual. One had most particularly startled him and caused him to roll off. Closing his blue eyes, the new young Lord of Canto relived the visions he had seen.  
  
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'Fly, my friends, fly!' screamed a woman in a high pitch. 'They've got axes! Fly!'  
  
'Take all of them!' a low growl came from the recesses of Alex's mind. 'Spare no prisoners! We must save them for the offerings.'  
  
'Milord Alex! Please help us! Please!" that woman's voice cried out at him with intensity. 'Please milord! Help us!'  
  
'He ain't gonna help you, slut!' that low male voice came again. 'You just shut your mouth and do as you're told, bitch!' A stinging slap was then heard.  
  
'Milord! Help us!' That woman's voice continued to scream.  
  
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Alex shook his head. There's got to be a reason why these visions, dreams, or nightmares are haunting him. Yes, there has to be a reason. Racking his well-trained brains, Alex sank into deep thought as he sat into a velvet cushioned chair.  
  
"There's been reports of strange beings flitting through the shadows at night, stealing people away. But there's must be a logical way of why," said Alex as he spoke his thoughts to the empty chamber. "More and more of my people are calling out to me. But who is that woman? Can she be an admirer?"  
  
"Lord Alex!" said the muffled voice of his advisor, Alec the Shaman. "A Cavalier from the Shrine has come. He bears, er, news."  
  
"Let him in." The door swung open and Ryoku stepped into the chamber, saluting his lord. Then the Cavalier kneeled and bowed his head.  
  
"Hail Lord Alex, Lord of Canto," Ryoku recited from memory. "May your reign of this land be prosperous and fruitful."  
  
"Peace, my friend," said Alex as he got up and helped Ryoku up. "You should reserve this crap for formal ceremonies like at court."  
  
"I'm flattered but, milord, I am a knight, not an equal to you. You know the laws of our country as well as I do." Ryoku kept his head bowed as he said this.  
  
"Ah, you're still stubborn about protocol aren't you? Oh well, what's the report?"  
  
"Sir, the Shrine has been, well, totally destroyed."  
  
"Destroyed?" Disbelief was in Alex's voice. "How can that be?"  
  
"I don't know sir," said Ryoku as he shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not a practicioner of magic but I was sure magic wielded by that person was at least the level of a sage if not better. If my training reminds me, the spell that struck us was Bolting."  
  
"Bolting..." Alex mused as he paced the room. Looking up, he called at the door. "Alec! I say, Alec the Shaman!" Swift footsteps were heard and a pair of spectacles poked through the door.  
  
"You called, milord?" the Shaman blinked owlishly at his leader. "I was in the middle of reading a wonderful book on the magical properties of Dragons from the Scouring. It's such a fascinating---"  
  
"Save it for another time, my friend," Alex cut right in. "Tell me, are you not the Mage General of Etruria's friend?"  
  
"Not exactly, I'm only Master Erk's pupil-"  
  
"That's just fine. Tell me, the spell Bolting. Is it not mainly wielded by Anima Sages?"  
  
"Yes, but under certain circumstances, other practicioners of other magics can also wield this power. Bolting is just a juiced up version of the advanced Thunder spell yet it is very inaccurate and unwieldy. The most times I've seen a Bolting tome last was at the very most five. Of course, the Legendary Archsage Athos has been known to use this spell up to TEN times! And so, blah de blah, de blah de blah, blah blah---" The Shaman continued to blabber about the properties and strength of Bolting.  
  
"What are we going to do, milord?" Ryoku whispered to Alex. "All my comrades are dead and I only have a faint idea where the blazes the culprits may be."  
  
"Just give me a sec," Alex then faced his advisor. "Say, Alec, weren't you interrupted earlier by me?" The Shaman was caught off guard and was confused.  
  
"I wouldn't say interrupt, milord, but yes you did. Is there something wrong, milord?"  
  
"Well, you were reading a tome about the Scouring right?"  
  
"Milord has an excellent memory. Indeed I was! Shall I excuse myself, milord? What shall I do about this Cavalier?"  
  
"There will be arrangements made, Alec, I'll do it all myself."  
  
"As you command, milord." The Shaman's feet made quick contact with the ground and both the Lord and Cavalier heard the slamming of a door after several seconds.  
  
"That should keep him out of our hair," said Alex as he gathered several items into a knapsack. "Help me with my armor, Ryoku."  
  
"As you command, milord."  
  
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Vahn leaned heavily upon his Javelin as the sun rose slowly. The helm on his head covered his eyes, protecting them from the invasive rays of the sun. The drowsy breeze dove through Vahn's armor and the blue armored Cavalier was startled awake by the cold wind. His Javelin fell down on the flagstones of the pathway, next to the gate. He ignored it and leaned against the walls, chewing his lip in an unsatisfied fashion.  
  
(Why did I end up with this shift?) he thought as a piece of skin fell off. (I put more hours into sentry duty and I barely get any recognition. Stupid commanders. It's always, raise your spear, mount your horse, dismount, lower your spear, charge, and drill and drill and drill all day long. Where's the glory in that? I just wanna go on an adventure with some friends and kill some ugly bastards.) Looking about, Vahn remembered something he had hidden earlier. Digging behind a bush, the Cavalier pulled out a pack of supplies for a journey and gave a low whistle.  
  
(I hope that horse of mine gets here quick!) Vahn's wishes were answered as his roan stallion clip-clopped its way toward him. The hooves made an commotion on the cobblestones but there's still a chance that no one's around to hear the ruckus.  
  
"Good job, Faris, good job!" Vahn whispered to his horse as he mounted it. Lifting his Javelin, the wayward Cavalier urged his horse toward the nearby forest to begin his new journey.  
  
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"I must say, this is an novel idea, milord," Ryoku commented as he followed Alex down to the stables. "Stealing off with a spare horse, riding it and searching after those bastards who destroyed the Shrine of Seals, I'll wager that you'll equal those Lycian nobles who defeated Nergal!"  
  
"SH! Not so loud! The household is not entirely asleep, Ryoku!" Alex hissed as they snuck around a corner. "Remember, swift and silent. Be one with the shadows."  
  
Both the Lord and Social Knight had already reached three-quarters of the way to the stables. Several sleepy stable hands were seen walking toward them but both were quite sure that they were able to pinch a horse and get going. Of course, who's fault will it be if they both get themselves captured?  
  
"LORD AAALLLLLEEEEEEEEEXXXXXXXXX!!!!!!!!!!!" A loud male's screech was heard as a window slammed open. A entire flock of pigeons immediately flew upwards at the intensity of the dissonance. The once sleepy stablehands snapped awake and looked at each other in utter confusion.  
  
"Did you hear that?" Ryoku said to Alex in a low whisper.  
  
"We're in trouble..." Alex muttered as castle guards quickly surrounded them with an furious Alec at the lead.  
  
"And just what does the young Lord of Canto is thinking of doing?" Alec then snatched the pack off of Alex's back. "Is this a travel sack I spy? Is this all your idea, milord? Or is it the Cavalier's?" The Shaman was turning into darker shades of angry purple. He was literally hopping mad.  
  
"Sir, it was-" Ryoku tried to talk over the bubbling mad Shaman. But Alex knew what to do.  
  
"Alec! It was my fault!" Alex yelled in his advisor's face. "It was all my idea and it's all my fault!"  
  
A hushed silence billowed and covered all of the people in the courtyard.  
  
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"The Blade of Honor, exactly twelve feet ten inches in length from hilt to point, made of an alloy of steel and silver, made in the Nabata Desert by Archsage Athos during his stay at Arcadia. Roughly about 300 years old. Last wielded by Lord Claimh of Araphen."  
  
Stephen the Swordmaster of Araphen, looked up from his tome. Entitled "The Legacy of Lycian Swords", Stephen thought it was apt for the sword he carries to go by the same name his ancestor, Lord Claimh of Altea, had once wielded.  
  
Stephen of Araphen, nephew of the late Marquess of Araphen, was entirely different than his uncle. Whereas his uncle was prideful and biased, Stephen was humble and impartial. He still has a tendency to blow a fuse over a minor matter, still like his uncle, but he can suppress the tension of his rage for a much longer rate.  
  
His father became the Marquess after his uncle "disappeared" many years ago when the name of the Black Fang still struck fear into the hearts of many brave individuals. For the last ten years, all was quiet. Ever since the Lycian noble, Roy of Pherae, had defeated King Zephiel, peace had reigned the continent of Elibe.  
  
But several weeks ago, messengers and spies reported that a strange cloaked person was appearing and disappearing with three equally strange people. These strange shadowy figures had raided, strangely enough, the libraries of Lycia. What was even stranger was that only few specific books were taken.  
  
Shutting the book, the Swordmaster ran his hands through his shoulder length hair. Twisting and messing with the ends, Stephen began to agree with his mother's naggings about his hair.  
  
'Get it cut!' she had once yelled. 'Imagine the number of women that would like you if you just kept it short! Look at your father! His is still short and I'm still competing against the ladies of the court!'  
  
Smiling, Stephen sat up and leaned against the desk with his right arm. There's been a significantly larger number of women who appreciate sharing beds with him ever since he'd kept his hair long. Maybe he should grow it into a ponytail.  
  
(Nah,) the Swordmaster thought as he stood up. (Then the women might think I'm one of them and ask me strange questions like 'what's your breast size' or 'who's your lover'. Women are strange creatures...)  
  
As he stood up, Stephen picked up his "Blade of Honor" and strapped it across his back. Unlike most conventional Swordmasters, Stephen preferred to keep his sword on his back rather like a Hero. Besides, it made more sense for one to run fast with a sword clanging on your back rather than banging against your knees.  
  
When he finally finished tieing the knots across his chest, the Swordmaster of Araphen looked out the window. He was immediately greeted by the warm glow of the sun and the soft gentle breezes that caresses the land of Lycia. Looking downwards, Stephen saw the courtyard was in a bustle.  
  
"Hand it over, you cur!" a castle guard demanded as he waved his sword at the invader. "Let it go and we'll go easy on you!"  
  
"Never!" a cloaked and hunched person croaked. "I've spent years and years to gain this power and now I have to hand it over?! Not in a lifetime!"  
  
"Then prepare to die, fool!" The guards then yelled and charged forward. They then struck with their swords and spears but the strange arrival dodged them all.  
  
"Have a taste of this!" the new arrival then shed his cloak and stood upright. "Power of the lands, heed my call, summon your strength to help me stand tall!" His hands quickly formed ancient runic symbols. Then he bellowed out a single word.  
  
"Stun!"  
  
A great bolt of electricity leapt forth from his hands and immediately struck all of the guards like a chain. The closest guard took the brunt of the blow on his shield and collapsed on the ground. The second suffered the same damage with a lesser effect but he also collapsed onto the earth. The third was unfortunate enough to be relatively close to the second fellow and took almost the same damage as his companion but he managed to stand upright. The rest of the energy managed to transfer itself through all of the guards, paralyzing them.  
  
The mage went next to the lead guard and gently prodded him with his foot. The guard gave an almost inaudible moan of misery.  
  
"You alright?" he said to the fallen guard.  
  
"Soma!" Stephen yelled as he waved his arms at the mage. "I say Soma the Mage!"  
  
Soma looked up and waved at Stephen. "How goes the studies of the future Lord of Araphen?" called the mage. A fallen guard member gave a groan and Soma's demeanor swung from cheerful to concerned.  
  
"Okay, maybe that spell was a tad too strong. Heart still beating?" The guard nodded and groaned again. "Maybe we should just splash some Pure Water on you fellows again. Your resistance to magic is still weak." The Mage continued to nag and help the guards up.  
  
Stephen smiled and pulled out a long length of rope that he kept stashed under the windowsill. Tying it to one of the great pillars of stone in the room, he tossed the rest out. Pulling on leather gloves to protect his hands, Stephen rappeled down onto the ground.  
  
"Yeeeee-ha!!!" the young Swordmaster yelled as he zoomed down at an insanely rapid speed. A bit of smoke was coming up where his gloves met with the rope. If he wasn't wearing gloves, his hand would've been redder than the flame of "Forblaze".  
  
Soma's eyes grew as the young lordling landed neatly without as much as disturbing the dirt below his boot as he mad contact with the earth. The young Mage rubbed the side of his temple.  
  
"Why am I always stuck with this idiot..." Soma muttered as Stephen pulled out his sword and did a couple of fancy sword moves that Soma never seen of.  
  
Stephen became lost in a strange mental trance. His happy demeanor faded away and his face became blank. Closing his blue eyes, the Swordmaster proceeded into his pre-combat warm-up session. As he started to do his routine, his mind yelled out commands.  
  
'Raise your sword so that it is parallel to the ground with both elbows tucked to your right. With your blade crossing diagonally from his right shoulder to your left, lunge forward and slash downwards.  
  
'Follow up by pulling your weapon back to the right with a another slash. Transfer your sword from your right hand to your left and spin it. Grab the hilt with both hands and jump upwards at your foe. Slash downwards and stab forwards.  
  
'Return into blocking position with your sword grasped near your hip, the blade angling to your left shoulder at an angle. Your Lord of Anger stance is complete.'  
  
Stephen continued to do excercise after excercise, sweating and enjoying the warms rays of the sun beating down on his back. As the crowd of awakening guards continued to watch him, a strange feeling crawled up the length of Stephen's spine. As he continued to do his stances without stopping, he heard a guard scream out.  
  
"We're under attack! It's HIM!" All the guards quickly mobilized and grabbed their various weapons. They rushed to the ramparts to defend their positions. A dark laughter came from outside, modified to where it boomed.  
  
"What is going on?" demanded Stephen. "Soma, what is this madness?" A powerful fireball flew through the air and struck the castle ramparts, knocking stone masonry aside.  
  
"How should I know? That force just arrived here moments ago! That magical energy I sense is at least stronger than the power of the legendary Archsage Athos!" the Mage yelled as another equally forceful ball of fire soared through the air and smashed into three dithering guards. Their bodies were immolated by the blast and in no time only their charred corpses remained.  
  
"Let's get going!" Stephen ordered as he ran toward the castle gates. Soma followed him, his cloak streaming out behind him. Several guards saw this and also followed them.  
  
Fire continued to rain upon them and the maniacal laughter outside was growing more and more mad. One particularly large one landed near Soma but the Mage deflected it with his own brand of Anima Magic. The Mage pulled out his "Thunder" tome and shot a bolt of electricity knocking the heated mass away. The fireball flew off into the sky and it fizzled out.  
  
Stephen dodged several fireballs that were in his way but one got to close to him. It exploded when it met the earth and the Swordmaster could feel the heat licking the air about him as he shut his eyes. But what stunned him was that he wasn't being burned to crisp. He opened one eye and found that his sword, the Blade of Honor, was sucking up the magical energies like a leech on an piece of flesh.  
  
The normally silver shaded blade was now somewhere between gold and crimson, just like the color of the Sacaen sunsets. But unlike the gentle sunsets, Stephen could feel the heat of the spell being swallowed by the blade. The blade continued to drain the magical energies of the spell, reducing it to a mere memory of a spell. Once the spell was completely gone, the Blade of Honor remained golden-red. Stephen gingerly lifted it before him and could sense the heat of spell energy against it. He then tried to put a hand against it another's hand smacked his hand away. Angry, Stephen raised his sword and struck downwards at the person who knocked his hand aside. He missed in his rage and his sword fell out of his grasp.  
  
"Stephen!" Soma yelled in his face as another "Fire" spell fell into the far end of the courtyard. "What's wrong with you? There's a seige at hand and we must hurry to the battlements!"  
  
"I'll be there in my own time, Soma," Stephen replied angrily as he picked up his sword. "Just go ahead and deal with that accursed magic wielder. I'll take several men and strike from behind them."  
  
"What about your father and mother?" Soma asked as Stephen walked away.  
  
Stephen stopped and bowed his head. As he turned around and looked Soma in the eye he said, "Just tell them nothing. It's high time I faced danger in its eyes. Go to the battlements along with the rest of the castle mages. All of you should be enough to block those fireballs that our foe is hurling at us." Soma nodded his head and ran off with his cape flowing behind him.  
  
Stephen waved his still golden-red sword, rallying several men-in-arms to him. Most of the castle guards were armed with spears and axes but one particularly tall fellow had an immense sword. Stephen singled him out.  
  
"Drake," Stephen said to his fellow warrior. "You're an Myrmidon, right?" The tall fellow nodded his head.  
  
"Right you are, milord. What is it that you intend to have me do, your grace?"  
  
"Here's the plan," Stephen then started to scratch a design of the castle and its surroundings onto the earth. All of the fighters leaned down and carefully studied the diagram.  
  
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w00t! This is finally finished! Took me a whole stinkin' month to get this done! 


End file.
